


Secrets of the Crypt

by mysongsknowhatyoudidinthedark



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post 07x04, R plus L equals J, Season/Series 07 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysongsknowhatyoudidinthedark/pseuds/mysongsknowhatyoudidinthedark
Summary: Jon Snow returns to Winterfell after his time with Daenerys. After reuniting with Bran and Arya, he comes to realize the truth about the past and about the blood that runs through his veins.





	Secrets of the Crypt

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for game of thrones! I've only watched the series, but I hope you enjoy!

Jon Snow had never felt at home at Winterfell. He’d always felt like an outsider, like he wasn’t meant to be there, like he didn’t deserve to be there. In his eighteen years of living there, he’d never once come back to people excitedly awaiting his return.

 

It felt strange certainly, but his sister’s smile at him as snow dusted on her long red hair warmed him like layer upon layer of fur pelts never could. She walked toward him with grace, something he’s noticed Sansa having more and more of.

 

He hugged her tightly, his eyes closed and grateful for the feeling of home for the first time. When he opened his eyes, he saw two figures standing behind Sansa, neither of which he’d seen before, but both of which he’d recognized. Their faces held much less of the roundness they had in childhood, but they were unmistakably Arya and Bran Stark.

 

“Arya, Bran,” Jon breathed. He couldn’t help but notice the awe in his voice, as though his siblings had turned into dragons before his eyes. Their faces remained unemotional, unsmiling, though he supposed he couldn’t blame them after all that happened.

 

Arya managed to crack the slightest smile, her lips widening into a look a content. It wasn’t quite the bright smile and loud laughter she used to have, but it was good enough for Jon. She walked up to him and enveloped his waist in a hug.

 

“It’s so good to see you,” he said. “Both of you.” Jon moved to Bran, leaning over in order to embrace him tightly. “You both have grown so much.”

 

“Jon, we must talk,” Bran stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

 

“Bran, he’s just traveled a great journey. At least let him breathe,” Sansa scolded. She looked to Jon, as though attempting to give some explanation, but could only shrug. “He has… visions.”

 

“That’s putting it mildly,” Arya quipped.

 

“I’m going to bathe. At dinner, we can talk.” Jon smiled fondly, filled with relief that his family is together again, if a bit broken.

 

“Before dinner. This needs to be private.” Bran’s voice seemed adamant, like it was sensitive information that could not even be shared with the rest of the family.

 

Jon couldn’t understand--he didn’t understand what Sansa even meant by “visions,” and he didn’t understand why it couldn’t be shared by all the Stark children--but he nodded to confirm their discussion regardless.

 

The Stark children broke apart to attend to their own personal needs. Jon, himself, went to his bedchambers and asked one of the servants to draw him a bath. It felt nice to be clean after traveling for so long, so many days at sea and the salty sea coating every inch of his skin and hair. He scrubbed for longer than he expected, but the warmth of the bath almost made him not want to leave to face the cold.

 

After bathing, he pulled on his clothes, chilled to the bone after stepping out of the tub. Even with his Northern blood, he still felt the icy air nipping at his skin.

 

Immediately, he went down to the grounds in an attempt to find Bran, but he was nowhere to be seen. Surely, the boy wouldn’t be hard to find, especially with his chair giving him mobility, but still, Jon couldn’t find him. He asked one of the guards if they’d seen him, and they said they saw him heading toward the crypt, so Jon began heading that way.

 

It was different to be in the crypt with his father’s body in it. Although neither Catelyn’s nor Robb’s bodies were there, he still felt like he was paying respects to them, too.

 

He stared at his father’s tomb, which held a statue bearing little resemblance to him. Jon wondered if any of the statues actually resembled their family members, or if they were all slightly off, with the wrong nose or the wrong cheeks or the wrong length of hair. A squeak coming from moving wheels removed him from his thoughts.

 

Jon found Bran sitting in front of his Aunt Lyanna’s final resting place. She held a candle in her extended hand, and she was surrounded by candles and blue flowers, as she always was. Jon cleared his throat to make his presence known.

 

“She’s beautiful,” Bran remarked, staring wistfully at the statue, like Jon imagined King Robert would. It was a sense of longing that he’d never seen in his brother. “I never got to meet her, not in person.”

 

“What do you mean? Not in person?”

 

Bran sighed and turned his head toward Jon. “Did Sansa or Arya ever explain my visions?”

 

“Not exactly.” Jon’s brow furrowed in confusion, while Bran’s hands gripped on the armrests of his moving chair.

 

“I can see the past and the present. I know all.”

 

A thought comes to his head, one that’s been pegging him since probably the day he was born. He knows it’s ridiculous to be asking this of his brother, but even after dying, nothing has stopped him from desiring the answer to this question.

 

“Do you know about my mother? I know it sounds silly to be asking my all-knowing brother about my parentage, especially at my age, but Father promised to tell me…” Jon’s voice trailed off, locking eyes with Aunt Lyanna.

 

“Father will tell you in death,” Bran said, as though the mysterious nature of his answer explained anything. “Only in death will you know.”

 

Jon frowned and turned his head to face Bran. “Do I--” He paused, unable to even consider the idea. “Do I have a tomb here?”

 

“All of us do.”

 

Jon turned around, looking at all the Stark graves. There were tombs for Lyanna, Ned, Catelyn, Robb, Rickon, Sansa, Arya, Benjin--even more Starks than he could even remember. He failed to see his own grave, even amongst his family.

 

Settling on going deeper, he went further into the crypt, farther away from Bran. He came to a point where he couldn’t even see his brother anymore. Name after name he saw, none of them bearing his own. He knew he was a bastard, but he couldn’t understand why Father wanted him so far away from everyone else.

 

“Rickard, Jon, Brandon--” He stopped, realizing that he had come upon his own name. His breath caught in his throat as he read the gravestone. His hands fingered over the indents in the stone, reading word by word. “Jon Snow, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaeger Targaryen.”

 

This can’t be right, he thought. Bran said Father had it made, but it couldn’t be right. It had to be wrong. The words had to be wrong.

 

He headed back to Bran, who was sitting patiently, now in front of Father’s tomb stone. His hands were clasped, and he was looking at the statue.

 

“It’s wrong. It has to be wrong.” Jon even let out a little laugh, shocked at his response to the information. “Surely, Father’s mistaken.”

 

“Why else would he have it made?” Bran’s eyes bore into him, cutting him to the core. His breath caught, almost like he was scared to breath in.

 

“Father--” He stopped. The words, so familiar to him, suddenly felt wrong in his mouth in reference to Eddard Stark. “But then I’m still a bastard, aren’t I? It doesn’t matter, does it?”

 

“You’re a trueborn son, Cousin,” Bran said.

 

“Did--did my mother and father marry? She wasn’t kidnapped, was she?”

 

“That’s all I needed to talk to you about.” Bran waved his hand dismissively and began rolling himself out of the crypt.

 

“I can’t tell anyone, can I?” Jon called, stopping his now-cousin in his tracks. “Not yet, anyway.”

 

Bran turned around, staring Jon directly in the eyes. He simply nodded and continued his trek back outside, back to the cold, back to the winter winds of Winterfell.

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda based on the theory that Jon would find out from his own grave that Ned had made (More details are here: https://www.popsugar.com/entertainment/Game-Thrones-Jon-Snow-Winterfell-Crypt-Theory-41389937)
> 
> I also kinda liked the idea that Jon would figure out the truth in the crypt in general (because that's where his mother was laid to rest)
> 
> Anyway I've been bored since last Sunday's episode and I really wanted to see Jon reacting to who his true parents are so I decided to post this 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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